


Beauty and the Beast

by Luckyhai5



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Beauty and the Beast, M/M, bagginshield style, dragons!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckyhai5/pseuds/Luckyhai5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the belly of the Lonely Mountain, a lonely dragon sleeps.</p><p>Beauty and the beast, Erebor style! Otho goes to Dale on business and winds up making one deal too many...</p><p>Note: rating may change (upwards), tags will be added as/when</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Otho Goes Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otho goes to Erebor on business, and ends up making one deal too many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is something I've been wanting to write for a long time, updates will take a while between them as I want to write this with more thought than I usually apply to fics.  
> I hope you enjoy it ^_^

Otho Sackville-Baggins was rather excited. He had assembled his wife, son and favourite cousin (well, his richest cousin) over tea, to tell them his news.

He had been asked to go on a trip to the city of Dale, to advise Bard himself about culturally integrating the ever-increasing number of hobbits resident there. This issue had been inevitable, given the proximity of Dale and the Shire, merely three days' walk apart, and Otho was happy to cash in on it, so to speak.

He had gathered his family here to offer to bring them something back from Dale, to please his wife and son and ingratiate himself with his cousin, Bilbo, for he was greatly enamored of his smial and clung to the hope that it would be handed over to him one day, on account of his larger family.

Thus, he was given his requests.

Lobelia was first to jump in with a demand. "Dale, is that not close to the abandoned city of Erebor?" She asked.

He nodded, for it was indeed.

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, my darling, a glittering jewel from that vault would not go amiss!"

Otho felt a sinking feeling, but before he could protest, he was cut off by his son's cries.

"Papa, papa, will you get me a sword?! Pleease? A shiny silver one with glittery stones!"

Looking into his son's hopeful eyes and Lobelia's fiery ones, Otho could hardly refuse.

He turned to Bilbo, expecting his to be the most ungrateful and outrageous request, wealthy bachelor that his cousin was.

"I have read," Bilbo began, irritating Otho with his paced speech, "That Erebor once held the most beautiful rose garden in all of Middle Earth, tended to by the Crown Prince, before its fall. I wonder, if you shall be going there anyway; would you fetch me a rose from this garden?"

Otho was taken aback by this request. "A rose? Just one?"

"Just one will suffice." His cousin smiled.

Drat! How could he ingratiate himself with his cousin enough to persuade him to give him Bag End?

Bilbo was a cunning, sly fellow.

Otho masked his frown with a smile.

"Perfect."

*

Entering the abandoned city of Erebor was far easier than Otho had anticipated.

He could not understand why its treasure lay within, unclaimed, and why people avoided the mountain so much.

There had been talk, of course, of the dragon, Smaug, which had appeared in the city and driven the dwarrows away in fear, but decades had passed without the thing being sighted. No, Otho knew the creature was long gone, and that the people of Dale were fools for their reluctance to enter the mountain and profit from what lay within. Dale was an odd city, and not one that suited him, for it was a place where dwarrows, hobbits and men lived. Otho was accustomed to only living with his own, and being among others was a strange and unwelcome environment for him. He could not wait to complete this final errand and be done with the place.

The inside of the mountain was dark, dank; its corridors were shadowy and winding. Otho wanted to be in and out as fast as possible, so he descended into the belly of the city, where he predicted the treasure vault would be. He was not wrong. 

What he saw took his breath away.

Even in the dim light, jewels and gold sparkled incredibly. The vault was massive, truly awe inspiring. It was yawning, great, cavernous, filled to the brim with stones and artefacts more precious than any Otho had seen before, like a meadow of golden flowers. It took his breath away, and he stood for a long moment, feeling utterly dwarfed by the great chambers surrounding him.

He began to walk, coins chinking around his feet like when he sloshed through autumn leaves on wet days. They ran rivulets where one was dislodged, in tiny streams making metallic chiming sounds far removed from the gurgling brooks of the Shire. The coins' round faces stared plainly up at him like sunflowers regarding the sun, shimmering with light.

Shaking himself, Otho tried to remember what he had come for. He gasped in pain and looked down, feeling hot blood drip over his hand where he had hurt himself on the thorns of the rose he had hastily picked for Bilbo on his way up; the hobbit would never know it wasn't actually from the famous garden he'd heard about. The shock of pain reminded Otho why he was there; reaching down blindly, he grabbed a handful of precious stones, selecting a large, ruby-red one for Lobelia. He then turned and chose a sword for Lotho at random; it was exquisite, presumably made by a master of the craft, silver and encrusted with glittering jewels. As an afterthought, he pocketed some coins; they could only come in handy, after all.

Turning to leave, Otho thought he heard a noise.

He froze.

*

Otho was sat in Bilbo's back garden, watching his cousin go redder and redder with rage.

"I will absolutely not! I will do no such thing!"

Bilbo's indignant cry was enough to cause Otho to break out in a sweat.

"Bilbo, you don't understand. You have to!" He implored his cousin to see reason.

"Why? Why on earth do I have to?" Dammed Took blood. Damn his cousin! Damn Bilbo Baggins!

"The dragon said that as punishment for my stealing from his vaults, he would either kill me or you would have to go to live in Erebor. Bilbo, I have my son to think of!"

He watched, ever hopeful, as Bilbo drew from his pipe, eyes screwed shut. The sunlight beat down on his cousin's head, his honey curls shining like the many treasures Otho had seen (and could not quite regret seeing, despite the consequences. There was something about all that gold...)

When Bilbo opened his eyes, a small spark of curiosity lurked within them.

Otho breathed a silent sigh of relief. He might have a chance.

"Why did he say that?" Bilbo asked; his cousin could hear his mind working, cogs whirring as he attempted to uncurl this enigma. Otho had always maintained that Bilbo's love of riddles would be the end of him - although he wasn't about to bring that up now.

"He said he should like to meet the creature who, when faced with all the riches of Erebor, would ask for a rose from the scullery garden." Otho replied, directly quoting the dragon.

"It is a dragon, in Erebor, like the legends say?" Bilbo asked again, his curiosity piqued.

"Indeed, Smaug the Terrible," Otho shuddered, "He is truly terrifying, and rather irate with me."

Bilbo nodded slowly. "For the sake of your son, Otho," He murmured, "But not of your wife."

Thus, it was agreed that Bilbo would ride out to Erebor, and see what laid in wait there.

To say that he was unhappy about it was perhaps an understatement.

*

The red rose lay, crumpled, upon the shimmering coins in the darkness of the belly of Erebor, the once-mighty mountain.

The dragon looked down at it, thinking, thoughts smouldering in his mind and ideas taking shape.

For the first time in a very, very long time, hope began to bloom within him.


	2. Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets some of the inhabitants of the Lonely Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am messing around with the layout of Erebor, just go with it, mmkay

Bilbo was deposited outside the Lonely Mountain by a not-apologetic-enough Otho. He had packed some clothes and books in a modestly sized bag, not aware of the nature of his stay. Did the dragon want him to garden, to clean perhaps? Or to eat? He hastily squashed that thought, shuddering as the Mountain cast its shadow over him. Perhaps the dragon simply wanted a friend.

That thought struck him with more fear than the idea of being eaten.

Squaring his shoulders, Bilbo began to ascend the Mountain, looking for the hidden gateway Otho had described to him.

He had not left Bag End to Otho, rather to Hamfast and the Gamgees; Hamfast was not only his gardener, but also his loyal friend, and he had a larger family than Otho. He had told them to watch it until he got back, for he was confident that he would be returning.

_He would._

Thus he found the entrance to the Mountain.

It was a summer's day, the grassy side of the land lush green, birds tweeting and trilling away. The clouds floated lazily overhead, the sky a pure blue beneath them; somehow, Bilbo found this made his situation more unsettling, as he entered the Mountain, its cold darkness swallowing him up.

He gulped. This was no hobbit hole.

The inside of it smelled old, like dust and history and forgotten laughter. He could taste its solitude in the back of his throat, an empty, sweet flavour which made him want to turn on his heel and run. Yet he had to do this, if not for the sake of his cousin and cousin's wife, then for the sake of their son, who really did not deserve to incur the wrath of a dragon.

More than that, Bilbo had to admit to feeling just a tad of semi-suicidal curiosity. Honestly, what kind of dragon would want to meet a hobbit, instead of eating one? What could it possibly want with him?

Actually, perhaps it was best if he didn't think on that.

Now he was wandering the halls of Erebor, a little lost. It wasn't as though he had expected the dragon to meet him, but... where should he go?

Perhaps this was all some kind of ill-devised joke; perhaps there was no dragon.

Ridiculous, really, to have believed that a dragon would make such crazy requests...

Bilbo's heart sank, as he heard a crashing sound.

This was it.

Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes tight shut, dropping his bag, and readied himself for certain death.

That was when two little, red dragons with big, sparkling yellow eyes barreled into him.

Bilbo opened his eyes widely in shock.

One of the dragons, who didn't have horns on his head like the other, spoke.

"You must be the rose-burglar!" He cried out, smiling, showing all his pearly-white teeth.

"Nope." Bilbo muttered, just before the world went dark.

* * *

 

When he came around, the two dragons were watching him from either side, concern in their gleaming eyes.

Bilbo felt slightly ill.

"Hello, Master Rose-Burglar," said the one with horns, "I'm Fili."

"And I'm Kili!" Said the one without horns.

Then, in unison, they chimed, "At your service."

Bilbo nodded, sitting up, "Pleasure to make your acquaintances, Masters Fili and Kili. I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."

Kili spluttered, "Don't be silly! You're Master Rose-Burglar."

Fili sighed, "Kili, he can be Master Rose-Burglar and Master Baggins at the same time, I'm sure."

"No he can't, that's ridiculous!"

"You can't just tell people what they are!"

"Yes I can, he's Master Rose-Burglar..."

As the two little dragons began to fly upwards, spiraling as they bickered, Bilbo sneaked away down a stone corridor, trying to be as quiet as possible. The dragons didn't seem to notice, so he made his way, noting how very large everything was here, despite the fact that this used to be a settlement of dwarves, who are not remarkably greater than hobbits in stature. As he turned a corner, he came to an area that looked like it was once a dining hall, and slipping through some double doors at the end of the room, he came to the kitchen.

Excitement overcame him as he realised that the roses, the most beautiful roses in all of Arda, grew outside the kitchens of Erebor! Before he knew it, his feet were flying beneath him, as he ran through the kitchen, barely taking in what was around him. As he came to the threshold, he realised that the door to the outside was locked, but there was a small window carved in the stone, glass long shattered, and he hauled himself up and through it, landing with a huff in the middle of a courtyard. A small archway showed the entrance to some gardens at the end of the cobbled yard, and Bilbo made his way through, ducking his head to get through it. That was strange - everything else was so opulently large here.

Then he saw the roses. They were the deepest red, deeper than blood, and they glittered like the jewels Bilbo assumed still festered in the belly of the mountain. They were larger than they should have been, twisting and turning as they grew upwards, wilder now than roses ought to be, thorns like daggers adorning their stems. They were beautiful. Bilbo stood in wonder for who knows how long.

He could not bring himself to pluck one from the earth, for they were too beautiful. When the skies began to darken and he began to shiver, Bilbo began to make his way back in.

Turning around, his eyes were met in the dark by two large, glowing, fiery irises, larger than the full moon that hung behind them, pale in the sky.

That was when he fainted for the second time in a day.

* * *

 

Bilbo awoke in a bed, the two little dragons again hovering over him.

Kili, the one without horns, was chiding him, "Honestly, Master Rose-Burglar, you must stop sleeping so violently."

Fili chastised him again, "Kili! Master Baggins must be very tired. You can't tell him off for sleeping!"

They began to bicker again.

Bilbo sighed and shut his eyes.

No matter where you are on Middle Earth, he observed, children are quite inescapable.


End file.
